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“Your father is a wonderful man, and we’re friends for life.”
Ori bestowed upon her his father’s smile, his beautiful brown-green eyes shining.
“Maybe you’ll…forget it. Never mind.” Ori turned away from her, staring out the window. She knew what he wouldn’t say. What every kid wanted more than anything–for his divorced parents to reunite.
But Ilan and she had drifted apart because she couldn't fulfill his needs in the bedroom, and that would never change. They stopped having sex long before the official separation.
She drove onto her street and was surprised to see both Ilan, who she thought was gone, and Tom standing at the entrance to the parking garage, as if waiting for her return. Ilan was freshly shaven, his tanned bald head gleaming, dressed in a white and gray dress shirt and gray dress pants. She parked her car and Ori got out and hugged his father. Ilan’s eyes narrowed as she approached him. She gave him a light kiss on his smooth cheek, breathing in his spicy cologne, Egoiste.
“You look very handsome. Where are you going?”
"I told you I was going with a colleague to a wedding up north," he barked.
He did, but she’d forgotten. His ride must be late. His gruffness didn’t move her but amused her. This change in her reactions to him had come gradually over the years, but she could finally count on not being anxious when he was stern.
The four of them stood in the driveway as a jeep slowly approached their garage, blocking it, and then halted to a full stop. Before she could get angry, the nearest passenger door opened, and a slender woman got out. She wore denim shorts that revealed her long, tanned legs. A cutoff white belly-showing T-shirt highlighted her flat, tanned tummy. Long black hair cascaded onto her smooth shoulders, and her brown eyes were artfully made up.
So, this was Ilan's colleague.
Her ex-husband stared at the strange woman with adoration, and a thrill of realization went through Dafna, direct and blinding like a bolt of lightning. The man she once was married to was in love with another woman.
"Hey, Ilan." The lady grabbed Ilan's forearms and gave a light kiss on his lips.
This was as blatant a declaration of ownership as she'd ever seen.
"Hi, I'm Kelly," she addressed Dafna and her two sons, who stared at her open-mouthed. She was as tall as Ilan, despite wearing only flipflops, and her self-confidence added to her attractiveness.
"Can I use your bathroom?" she asked Ilan, who was uncharacteristically slow to react. Dafna smiled at this glamorous woman who was giving her ex a run for his money.
"Hi Kelly, nice to meet you. I'm Dafna. Sure, follow me."
Kelly followed her to the guest bathroom. Her Hebrew carried a Spanish accent, Argentinian perhaps, and Dafna wondered whether she danced tango.
When her marriage fell apart, a psychologist friend recommended ball room dancing, saying it can help rebuild rapport between couples. To nobody’s surprise, Ilan could move like a dream. He had a great sense of rhythm, caught on to the steps right away. She had two left feet and was the laughingstock of the class. He tried to hide his impatience and frustration, but how could he, from her, who knew him so well. It dawned on her then that it was finished. Their marriage was done. That they grew apart too much, were incompatible in bed, as well as in the ballroom. She cried her eyes out, quit the dance class, and filed for divorce.
She left Kelly and went outside. Ilan had put his overnight bag in the Jeep. She motioned him aside, a little away from the boys.
"Ilan, I wanted to thank you again." What he did mattered greatly, and she didn't take it for granted. He needed to know that. "I couldn't have managed without you this past week."
He shrugged his elegant shoulders, as if it were obvious, which for him, being a decent man, it was. She loved him, and she always would. But they couldn’t be together.
"She is so lovely and self-assured, Kelly. The kiss and then the way you looked at her and she looked at you. She is more than a colleague. Much more, right?" she asked, schooling her features into a benign mask.
Ilan didn't answer, and his eyes shifted to the side. He looked uncertain. Maybe he was afraid to hurt her. He was moving on, faster than she was, but she would find it in her heart to wish him happiness.
"You're a good man, Ilan. I hope it works out," she said.
Her ex-husband finally met her eyes and his genuine smile shone, the one that grooved two deep creases in his lean cheeks. There was contentment there, as if he too realized this was truly the end. Or perhaps she was projecting.
Kelly came out and stopped in front of Ori, who couldn't stop staring at her.
"Hi. Apologies for rushing just now. You must be Ori," she said in her accented, charming Hebrew. Ori shook her hand and nodded silently. His mouth was slightly open, and he had the silliest expression on his face.
"Hi. You must be Tom," she said, then turned to Dafna. "Thanks, Dafna. You have a lovely home."
Dafna smiled at her and a thought floated into her mind–this Kelly woman looked to be about Erez’s age.
Chapter 10
